Wolf: “Hey, are you Ben?”
Bartender #1: “No, I’m not. Which Ben are you talking
about?”
Wolf: “Uh… the younger one? I think he’s 21.”
Bartender #2: “One is 29, the other is 26.”
Wolf: “Oh.”
We left the college town of the Montana Grizzlies and enter
Bozeman, the home of the Montana State Bobcats. En route to Bozeman, we stopped
in Butte to see LeBron and Co. hoist their 2nd consecutive NBA
championship trophy much to the chagrin of the Spurs faithful at Metal’s Sports
Bar. As the clock struck 11pm, we left ourselves one option – stay in Bozeman.
As we exited the highway, we grinned at the sight of
countless hotels that lined the city streets. Dude, let’s stay… “No vacancy.”
What about… “No vacancy.” That one looks… “No vacancy.”
We were meeting Ben, the son of a co-worker, at the wine bar
he works at downtown. As we continued to pass hotels with neon lights
confirming the impossibility of sleeping in a warm bed, our optimism turned to
depression as Ben, a person I had only texted a few times, was our only hope.
The doors of “Plonk” slowly shut behind us. The
uncomfortable feeling of meeting someone on a blind date was trumped at the
sight of various exotic wines that lined the walls of the dimly lit bar.
After ordering a drink and sitting for five minutes hoping
Ben would notice a hoodie and a flannel amongst the collared shirts and slacks,
I texted him. “Hey Ben. We just got here. We are the two guys drinking Moose
Drools at the end of the bar.” Easily spotted, we shook hands and Peter and my
fear of a forced conversation was confirmed when we began to talk about rock
climbing and motorcycles. With the thought of finding an unoccupied parking lot
and reclining the seats of Black Sally, he asked us where we were staying for
the night. We told him the truth and the unexpected generosity, compassion, and
friendliness of Ben ensued.
We woke up well re… well we woke up. We stayed in a vacant
apartment above Plonk and headed for a cup of coffee.
Bonus Pic:
The Buttehole of America, The Berkeley Pit
Car sing-along favorite, "Only in Your Heart" - America
Like father, like son...I slept up above a bank in downtown Bozeman circa 1983. That's a great town..a mix of cowboy chic and university hip.
ReplyDeleteGlad you were able to use your "vagabond charm" to get a free night on the road!
Dad x
Do they know about the flying Ducks in Montana? Not the kind they shoot.......
ReplyDeleteOther Dad